


Lost

by highlytrainedfangirl



Series: Home [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Loneliness, Longing, M/M, im sorry, thats basically it, theres a brief reference to suicidal thoughts but it's super brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 18:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13770210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlytrainedfangirl/pseuds/highlytrainedfangirl
Summary: Steve wakes from the ice and has to deal with the world alone.Part of the 'Home' series but can be read alone.





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the tags, there is a brief reference to suicidal thoughts, but it really is blink and you'll miss it. Wanted to warn you guys just in case.

2012\. The future. Wonders beyond belief buzzing round every corner.  
And it was so empty.  
Steve awoke in the twenty first century to everything and nothing.

He awoke to a world where he was a hero, a part of history, a symbol for justice. Yet he was more of a propaganda poster than he'd ever been during the war. He wasn't a person anymore. He was only a shield and a starry logo.

He awoke to a world full of possibilities. The technology was incredible, the cities thrummed with frantic energy, the globe had never been so connected. Yet Steve was alone. The swarming streets were filled with strangers and everything that made his city his was gone. Where was his old apartment building, with its flimsy walls and creaking bed? Where was the small grocery store, where Mr Samson would turn a blind eye when Steve came up a little short? Where was the alley where Steve received his first black eye, after attempting to chase older boys away from a scared, injured cat?  
Where were all his friends?

Brooklyn was no longer Brooklyn. At least, Brooklyn was no longer Steve’s Brooklyn.

The hardest change to come to terms with was no Bucky. Steve had only ever let himself picture three scenarios after the war – him and Bucky returning safely, him and Bucky dying side-by-side, Bucky living on after Steve was gone.  
He hadn't dared to picture living without Bucky by his side. Steve had thought maybe, maybe when that plane went down…

But there he was. The sole survivor. The worst was that Bucky didn’t feel dead. The hole beside him wasn’t shaped from grief, but longing. It felt like he was missing, not dead, and no matter what he tired, Steve couldn’t force himself to let go.

He was given a new apartment, new clothes, new everything, by SHIELD. He was grateful, of course, he was grateful, but it wasn't the same. Something still felt wrong and there was no one Steve could talk to. The SHIELD agents who were tasked with rehabilitating him sat and smiled politely, offering a sympathetic shoulder, but they didn't understand.  
No matter how hard anyone tried to understand, they couldn't. For the rest of the world, the war ended decades ago. They couldn't know what it felt like to have been in the midsts of the war only weeks ago.

It was in his deepest moments of loneliness and desperation that Steve longed for Bucky the most.  
“I just wish you were here, Buck.” His words fell dead in the empty apartment. Steve was sitting in a hard plastic chair beside a window that overlooked the cramped skyline.  
“It's not like you'd know what to do, but at least I could talk to someone. Not those fake smiles and empty promises that ‘you’ll adjust sooner or later’. I just wanna talk and have someone listen. I want to talk as Steve the lost, lonely, little kid, not the unbreakable war hero.”

He felt selfish, wishing Bucky were alive just so he'd have someone by his side.

Weeks dragged on as Steve was forced to attend meeting to assess his improvement and stability, sitting through pointless question after pointless question.  
“How do you feel this morning?” _Shit._ “fine, thank you.”  
“Have you read all the files we gave you last time?” _What's the point? I'll never get back the life I missed._ “I have. I was very interested in German's situation in the eighties.”  
“Is there anyone you'd like to speak to?” _Unless you've mastered necromancy, no._ “Not at the moment, thank you.”

Each night he'd crawl back to the gaping queen sized bed he'd been given, and try not to feel lost amongst the many sheets and pillows. One night he'd tried sleeping on his narrow couch, but even then, the space around him was vast. Vacant. There was a distinctly Bucky shaped gap next to him, no matter how small the space.  
Steve couldn't sleep at all with the silence suffocating him; he needed the rustle of sheets and steady breathing that had always accompanied a warm arm draped across his hip. 

In the end, it was only sheer exhaustion that could lure Steve to sleep. It claimed him when his brain was no longer strong enough to remind him where he was. Even then it was fitful – riddled with nightmares and consumed by unease that something was never quite right. 

Two years later and nothing had changed. Or maybe everything had, it was hard to tell.  
Steve had suddenly gained new friends and a new sense of purpose, but he was still just Captain America. Still just ‘Cap’.  
He was sleeping better, though still plagued with nightmares. His dreams seemed trapped on a train through the mountains.  
He’d met Sam Wilson and finally, _finally_ , there was another human he could talk to who understood, at least a little. But he still couldn’t talk about Bucky. He still felt alone, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with.  
He could laugh and smile, but the was still something inside he head that wouldn’t let him be. 

Sometimes, when he was alone, Steve still called out to Bucky. There was a yearning part of his mind that wanted to believe that somehow Bucky would be able to hear him from whatever afterlife he was in. 

And then he appeared. Bucky just appeared. Two men, frozen on the -now wrecked- highway and Steve could swear he saw a flicker of remembrance. 

And everything became so much worse. The longing that consumed him intensified every day knowing that Bucky was alive and just out of reach.  
Sam tried to help but, of course, he tried to warn Steve off, tried to say that maybe Bucky couldn’t be saved. Steve wanted to scream. He was back to square one; there was no one to talk to who could understand. He wished he could tell Sam the truth, but Steve himself didn’t know what the truth was. How could he explain the need to have Bucky by his side in order to feel complete? 

_I love him._ “I love you.” More words whispered to an empty apartment. 

The void in his soul threatened to tear him open. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow it has been so long since I've posted anything. I'm sorry. I honestly can't believe I'm actually doing it now. I have a part six sort of planned. Maybe it'll happen. Maybe it won't. Who knows. But if you are actually reading this, thanks. It means a lot.


End file.
